


memories made in the coldest winter

by kelbivdevoe



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Pre-Season/Series 01, Reader-Insert, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 19:24:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13508178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelbivdevoe/pseuds/kelbivdevoe
Summary: When your car dies during the first blizzard of the season, an unlikely savior appears in the form of Jim Hopper.





	memories made in the coldest winter

**Author's Note:**

> The Hopper thirst finally got the best of me. Set during pre-season 1, but not by much. 
> 
> Title from Kanye West's Coldest Winter.

Fuck winter.

It’s all you can think, one thought on an infinite loop, as your car makes a noise akin to a dying cat before slowing to a stop on the side of the snowy road. The headlights die right along with the battery, leaving you sitting in the dark in the middle of a snowstorm.

 _Fuck_ winter.

You slam your hand down on the steering wheel, shifting the gear pointlessly into park before glaring out into the snowflakes whizzing outside your window like a million tiny stars. Every swear word in the human language rushes to mind, and you shout them in every possible combination until the anger in your chest subsides.

Deep breath.

The chances of someone else being out in this are slim to none—but it’s not cold enough that you’ll die and leave a frozen corpse in the back of your Toyota Corolla. Odds are, you’re going to spend a very uncomfortable night here until the weather clears up, and you may as well make peace with that sooner than later.

You reach for your bag in the passenger seat, rummaging through until your gloved hand closes around your Walkman. Your hat comes off momentarily as you place the headphones over your ears, fingers finding the play button automatically and smiling a little as the sound of Little Red Corvette fills your ears.

Prince is singing that you got to slow down when a flash of headlights appears in your rearview mirror. You sit up straight and grab your bag with one hand, pushing open the door and scrambling outside to the side of the road before your saviour passes by. Snowflakes stick in your eyelashes as you squint through the wind, waving your arms while mostly hoping whoever it is doesn’t drive straight through you.

The truck slows to a stop in front of you, and the words ‘Hawkins Police Department’ are barely visible in the darkness. Your heart feels like it’s being squeezed as Jim Hopper’s scruffy face comes into view, calling your name as he rolls down the window.

“Are you okay?” He yells over the wind, and all you can do is wave at your car with one hand. You and Hopper have crossed paths every morning since he moved to Hawkins, hitting the local coffee place at the same time and inadvertently starting some sort of infinite flirtation loop that you’ve been too chickenshit to follow through on.

“It died!” You yell back, and he beckons for you to get into the truck with one swipe of his large hand. The truck is blissfully warm when you get inside, tugging off your gloves and pressing your hands against the heating vents.

“You’re my hero,” You sigh, looking over at him with a grateful smile that he returns easily with a shake of his head.

“Serve and protect,” He replies, still smiling. “What are you doing out in the middle of this shit?”

“Lost track of time at work,” You admit, pulling your headphones down around your neck. “I thought I could make it home alright, but my car had other ideas.”

“I can’t speak for the car, but I can at least get try and you home. What’s the address?” He squints through the snow squall, trying to differentiate the actual road form the side of it.

You tell him and he winces a little, grip tightening on the wheel.

“Honestly…I don’t know if we’re gonna make it that far in this.” He replies apologetically as your heart sinks a little.

“What about the motel?”

“No vacancy because of the storm. People just ended up pulling off the highway and staying the night. Playing it safe.”

“Smart.” You sigh. Smarter than you, at least.

Hopper works his jaw for a minute before speaking again.

“You can stay at my place for the night.” His eyes flicker back and forth from you to the road as he speaks, trying to gauge your reaction.

Your throat goes a little dry, but you nod in agreement, not wanting to seem rude. Honestly, a part of you is excited to spend the night with a man you’ve been attracted to since the day you met. The other part, the bigger part, is too aware of what kind of man Hopper is. You’ve heard horror stories from women around town he’s slept with and never called back— and you don’t want to be one of them.

“That’s…really nice of you, Chief.” You reply, trying to sound nonpartisan as you press your gloved hands against the heating vents on the dashboard.

Hopper smiles in response, looking almost relieved.

“What were you listening to?” He asks, nodding at the headphones around your neck. “You can put it in the tape deck if you want. Damn radio hasn’t worked since I inherited this thing.”

“Oh!” You jump a little, having forgotten you were still wearing them. Fishing the tape out of your Walkman takes some effort with your gloved fingers, but you manage to get it into the tape deck. The bouncy synth of Delirious fills the cab of the truck and Hopper lets out an exaggerated groan.

“You don’t like Prince?” You laugh, tapping your thighs in time with the beat.

“Do I look like I’m into The Purple One?” He yells over the music.

“He’s a genius!”

“He’s overrated!”

You ignore him and start singing along loudly as Hopper shakes his head, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth as he goes back to squinting through the storm.

—-

  
There’s at least two dozen empty beer cans scattered through Hopper’s trailer on first glance as you walk inside. It’s definitely a bachelor pad, as evidenced by the scattered trash and dirty laundry that looks like it was dropped wherever it happened to be taken off.

“Sorry about the mess…” Hopper pushes into the kitchen, grabbing a plastic bag and shoving the empty cans and boxes into it hurriedly as you try not to smile. There’s still snow covering his hat and jacket.

“It’s okay,” You reply, setting down your bag by the door and shaking the snow out of your hair. “You should see my place. It looks like the closet exploded.”

He carries the garbage into the kitchen, stuffing it under the sink before shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on the back of a chair.

“You want a beer or something?” He asks, pulling off his hat and shaking the snow into the sink.

“Do you have anything sweeter?” You ask, not passing up the opportunity to admire just how snug Hopper’s uniform actually is.

He leans over to rummage through the fridge and makes a noise of triumph, pulling a can of Coke out and holding it up in victory. He grabs a beer for himself and walks back into the living room as you try and look like you’re innocently looking for a place to hang your coat.

“Just throw it on top of mine,” He suggests, setting the cans down on the coffee table next to an ashtray that’s overflowing with cigarette butts. “We like to keep it casual here at Chez Hopper.”

Obviously.

You put your jacket over his as directed and take a seat next to him, opening the can of Coke with a satisfying crack. He observes you for a moment before holding up his can to toast.

“Cheers to my first Hawkins blizzard.”

“Hopefully not your last.”

You tap your can against his with a small grin, taking a sip and letting the sugar and caffeine wash blissfully over your tongue.

“This isn’t the exactly the way I pictured our first drink together,” He teases, looking at you over the top of the can. He’s calling you out a little, but you can respect that.

“But it _does_ make for a better story,” You counter with a smile before grimacing a little as you shift in your wet jeans. The expression isn’t lost on him.

“Listen, I don’t wanna be the guy who asks ‘wanna get out of those wet clothes’, but…do you wanna get out of those wet clothes?” He pauses and holds his hands up, almost like he’s trying to show you he’s unarmed. “Totally innocent question, by the way.”

“I don’t have any other clothes.” You blink at him curiously.

“I can find something for you,” He insists, climbing to his feet and motioning for you to follow him into the bedroom. After a bit of digging, he produces a comfortable looking pair of pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt that’s going to be a mu mu on you.

“Thank you,” You murmur as he presses the clothes into your hands, looking up at him. His height always makes your stomach flutter, along with a million other problematic qualities.

He winks and walks out into the living room to give you your privacy, closing the door behind him.

You strip off your wet jeans, laying them gently on the bed before tugging off your socks and shirt and adding them to the pile. It’s impossible not to laugh when you tug on Hopper’s clothes; his shirt hangs well past your backside and the pants are never, ever going to stay up unless you keep a tight grip on them.

“It feels like I’m a kid wearing my dad’s clothes,” You laugh, opening the door and debuting your new outfit.

Hopper presses his fist over his mouth, hiding a smile and failing miserably.

“Are you gonna punch me if I tell you how cute you look?” He asks, voice shaking a little as he tries to hold back a laugh.

“Don’t test the theory.” You give him a joking glare and shuffle over to the couch, rearranging your pants before sitting down and praying they don’t suddenly slide off.

It doesn’t take long before you fall into a comfortable rhythm of conversation, the space between you on the couch growing smaller with the passing hours. It’s hard to keep your gaze from the strong line of his jaw and the dimples that come out when he smiles. When he brushes his fingers against your knee the lights flicker twice before the trailer goes black. You’re not into signs, but this seems like a pretty good one.

“Shit.” Hopper climbs to his feet, fumbling around the room before he makes a noise of triumph and a beam of light cuts through the dark. He switches the flashlight to his other hand and looks over his shoulder at you.

“Must be the storm. I’m gonna go check the fuse box. Hold tight for a minute.”

You pull your knees up to your chest with a shiver; the cold is settling into the house already. The wind howls against the windows, louder without the sound of the television and Hopper’s voice to drown it out.  
He reappears a few minutes later, pointing the flashlight in your direction.

“The fuses are all fine so it’s definitely a storm outage. Should be back on by morning.”

“It’s probably a good time to head to bed,” You suggest, pulling your legs closer to your chest and feeling suddenly brave. “You don’t mind sharing, do you?”

His eyes widen a little in surprise, gazing at you through the darkness.

“No, uh, not at all.” The subtext of this conversation is killing you. “As long as you’re comfortable with it.”

“I am.” You smile a little, standing up and holding onto your pajama bottoms. There’s no turning back now. Every story your friends have told you about Jim Hopper runs through your head at the same time, but you push it out of your mind. If this is a mistake, it’s going to be your mistake, goddammit.

Hopper leads the way into his bedroom, plucking a few empty beer cans from the nightstand and tossing them into the wastebasket. He pulls back the covers and motions for you to climb inside, which you quickly do. The trailer is bordering on freezing already.

You scoot to the edge of the bed, pulling the covers up to your chin as he gives you a grin and disappears into the bathroom, reappearing a few moments later in a warm looking Henley and pajama bottoms that match your own. Anticipation tightens in your chest as he climbs in behind you, and you have to keep from making a sound as he fits his body around yours.

He slides an arm around your waist carefully, relaxing a little as you rest your arm against his, feeling absolutely engulfed by his large form. You breathe out slowly, giving your ass an experimental wiggle against his pelvis, biting down on your lower lip as he tightens his grip on you with a sharp inhale.

The next time you try it he rocks back against you with a low growl. You let out a soft noise as you feel his hardening cock pressing against you, rocking back against him as he presses himself harder against you.

Fuck it.

You turn around to kiss him but he’s ready for you, capturing your mouth in a hungry kiss before you have the chance to react. He climbs on top of you without breaking the kiss, tongue brushing against yours as you slide your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. You fit your hips together, tightening your grip on him as he grinds his cock between your legs until you’re soaked and he’s achingly hard.

When he finally breaks the kiss your mouth is aching; you wind your fingers into his hair as he presses his mouth against your neck, stubble scraping hard against your skin. His large hands find their way up the front of your shirt as he sucks a bruise into your skin, making you arch into his touch as he closes his large hands around your tits, kneading them slowly. You whimper softly as his thumbs brush against your nipples, teasing them to hardness before pinching them lightly between his fingers and making you gasp.

“God, you sound good…” He rasps into your skin, lifting his head to kiss you languidly as his hands push up the front of your shirt. The low temperature of the trailer has long been forgotten; right now it feels like your entire body is burning up. You squirm as he drags his mouth down over your chest, beard scraping your skin before he drags his tongue over your nipple and takes it into his mouth with a low sound, sucking slowly and making you mewl.

You swear you can feel him smirk against your skin as your grip tightens on his hair. One of his hands slips into your pants, past the waistband of your panties and between your legs, rubbing your pussy slowly with his large fingers and letting your wetness coat them. The slick sound is obscenely loud in the small room, sending a rush of heat between your legs.

“How many fingers can you take, hm…?” Hopper muses against your skin, one of his thick fingers teasing your opening before easing inside of you slowly. You breathe out shakily, listening to the noise of appreciation that rises from the back of his throat.

“So fuckin’ tight…” He breathes, chuckling a little as he feels you clench around him from the filthy words. His finger begins easing in and out of you slowly as his thumb begins to circle your clit, making your hips rock into his touch.

“You like that?” He sounds almost breathless, lifting himself back up to eye level and brushing his lips against yours. “You like me talking about how tight your little pussy is?”

You actually moan out loud against his mouth, nodding dazedly and squirming as he eases another finger inside of you, thumb rubbing a little harder against your clit as he feels you stretch around him.

“Can’t wait to feel it around my cock…” He nips lightly at your lower lip, eyes burning into yours. He crooks his fingers just so, hitting a spot inside you that makes you lose your breath. “You want it, baby…?”

“Please…” You whimper, hips jerking into his touch, wanting more.

Hopper pulls his fingers out of you slowly and you make a noise of loss, watching him ruck down his pants and boxers and letting his cock spring free, thick and impressive. He leans back a little, gazing at you hungrily.

“Get that gorgeous ass in the air for me,” He breathes, watching you turn over obediently before positioning himself behind you and rubbing the head of his cock against your pussy, coating it in your juices and making you whimper before thrusting inside of you with a low groan.

You grip the bedsheets tightly with a moan, bowing your head slightly as he begins rocking his hips, easing himself all the way inside you before pulling almost all the way out, seemingly savoring the sensation before he starts fucking you into the mattress.

The room is filled with the sound of skin on skin as his hips slam against yours, hard enough to make the headboard slam against the wall with a loud bang each time. You can barely hear it over the sounds you’re making, especially once his fingers find your clit, rubbing it furiously as the movement of his hips becomes faster, harder.

“Nn, Jim…gonna…” You moan, squeezing your eyes shut as the force of your orgasm hits you suddenly, blindingly hard. He groans thickly as he feels your pussy tighten around him, fucking you through the aftershocks of your orgasm, his fingers working against your oversensitive clit, trying to drag out the sensation as long as possible.

“Fuck…” Hopper pants, digging the nails of his other hand slightly into your skin as the movement of his hips begins to stutter. “Turn over…”

You do so, albeit a little shakily as he leans over you, stroking his cock furiously before coming with a ragged groan on your chest. He tugs his shirt off despite the chill in the room, carefully cleaning the mess from your chest before tossing it onto the floor and settling down comfortably next to you.

“I’m really going to be offended if you forget your first Hawkins blizzard after that.” You tease, still a little winded as you grin at him, curling into his side and wrapping an arm around his soft middle.

Hopper lets out a chuckle, resting his scruffy cheek against the top of your head and wrapping an arm comfortably around your shoulders.

“Are you kidding me? My dick is going to get hard every time I see a snowflake now.”

That gets a laugh out of you. His fingers stroke your shoulder absently as your eyes slide shut, worn out from the night’s events.

“Hey. Breakfast on me if the power’s back on in the morning?”

As if on cue, there’s a loud beep as the trailer is filled with light and the sound of the furnace stuttering to life fills your ears. Another sign.

“Guess it’s a date.” You grin, peering up at him.

He looks back at you, eyes shining with amusement before he drops his lips against yours.

“It _definitely_ is.”


End file.
